


Begin Where It Ends

by Dresupi



Series: WonderTrev [2]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Character Study, Eventual reunion, F/M, Fix-It, Language, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Steve Trevor Lives, Suspension Of Disbelief, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Wonder Woman (2017) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Maybe it was better this way.  Maybe he’d even done it on purpose.  Sounded like him.  He always got it wrong.  Or maybe he got it just right. Either way, it was typical.He pushed all of that out of his mind.He had seconds left on this earth and he wanted to spend it thinking abouther.OR:I needed to write a fix-it and roll around in my Diana/Steve feels for a little longer.





	1. Prologue:  We Have More Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! *waves*
> 
> I'm dipping my toes into this fandom, guys. I haven't really seen any of the other DC Movies, other than Batman Vs.Superman. So please be nice? <3 
> 
> I'm cross posting on tumblr. 
> 
> There will be four chapters total, and the next three will be significantly longer than this first one. ;) I'mma try for daily updates. We'll see. *fingers crossed*
> 
> Special thanks to bloomsoftly for giving this a read through! <3

His finger was on the trigger.  He closed his eyes and thought about Diana.   

Steve Trevor had known he loved her the moment he laid eyes on her.  From the second he’d sputtered alive again, coughing the sea water from his lungs and looking into the eyes of an indescribably beautiful woman. He’d been in love even then. 

But of course the only time he could think to tell her was when he’d made up his mind.  Do nothing or do something.  And his ‘something’ had turned him into a dead man walking.    

She couldn’t even hear him.  Her ears were ringing.  He knew that look well.

Maybe it was better this way.  Maybe he’d even done it on purpose.  Sounded like him.  He always got it wrong.  Or maybe he got it just right. Either way, it was typical.  

He pushed all of that out of his mind.  He had seconds left on this earth and he wanted to spend it thinking about her.  

About the night they’d spent together.  

About the way she’d touched him.  Forward and selfsure.  Like she knew what she was doing.  Steve had no doubt in his mind that she did.  Before or definitely after.  

If he hadn’t been in love with her already, he was after that night.  

He’d tried his best not to be a so-called unnecessary male, but Diana was something else entirely.  Steve wanted to give her everything, and even when she quaked atop him, his thumb centered perfectly over her, he could tell it wasn’t the best.  That he paled in comparison to the Amazon lovers Diana had in the past.  

Even as she crooned in his ear, rocking her hips over his body and giving him the most mind-blowing experience of his life, he wished he could do more.  Give her more.  

An impossible hope, but he was okay with not being the best.   _ Diana _ was the best, there was no comparison.  

She wasn’t like him.  He was probably the tiniest speck of sparkle in the scenery as it whirred past her.  And to him, in that moment...she was everything.  

He swallowed the lump in his throat and adjusted his grip on the gun.  He opened his eyes and watched the clouds pass him by, knowing it was time to end it.  

_ Diana is everything. _  He thought to himself.  No was.  No past.  She just  _ is. _

He pulled the trigger and felt the heat build behind him.  He waited for the pain, and was still surprised when it came.  

His mouth opened in a scream and the glass and metal broke away around him.  He jetted forward through the open air and waited for the darkness to take him.  

He assumed it would be like going to sleep.  

That he wouldn’t hurt for long.  

That if there was an afterlife, he’d wake up and it wouldn’t hurt any longer.  

* * *

 

All he could feel was pain.  

And it wasn’t the pain he was expecting.  

He must have hit the ground pretty hard.  His mouth was full of something.  Sand maybe.  Or dirt.  He couldn’t discern the texture.  

His ears were ringing and he couldn’t will his eyes to open.  

And his arm…

His arm fucking  _ hurt, _ there was no way around it.  

He tested the other one, pushing up and throwing himself backwards.  His head lolled off the edge of something.  

His head was dangling over a great precipice.  

He panicked and toppled over, thinking that finally... _ finally _ this was the end.  

But it wasn’t as far as he initially thought.  Maybe only six inches.  Twelve if it was anything.

Footsteps approached him.  

“Sir? Sir?”  An elderly man stooped down over him.  “Sir?  Are you alright?”  He sounded British.  Had Steve blown himself back to London?  Or at least to the British Isles somehow?  

How was he not dead?  Some pancake they had to scrape up off the sidewalk?  

“Am I dead?” he croaked, looking up into the eyes of the man.  

“I certainly hope not,” the man answered.  “Because that would mean that  _ I _ am dead and then who would take care of Master Wayne?”  

He wasn’t dead.  

Steve tried to wrap his mind around that, even as his arm throbbed with pain.  Pain meant he was alive, right?  He blinked and looked at his surroundings.  A flower bed.  Mulch and dirt.  That was what had been in his mouth.  He was alive.  

Alive and practically unscathed for someone who had been in an explosion.

Alive, unscathed, having rolled ass over head through some British guy’s garden.  A butler, given the reverent way he spoke about his employer.  Master Wayne?

Steve cleared his throat before speaking again. “Master  _ who _ ?”  


	2. Part 1: I'll Be Stumbling Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Steve POV in this chapter. 
> 
> Mentions of shellshock and PTSD. Poor Steve isn't handling everything as well as he hoped he would be. I apologize if the chapter seems to be mostly his internal monologue, but I needed him to react to his surroundings. 
> 
> Also, brief dialogue from Bruce Wayne and Alfred. Steve is sort of vaguely maybe distrusting of Bruce in this chapter, mostly because he can't read him. But not to worry. Nothing shady is going on. <3 Just poor Steve is kind of an unreliable narrator here. 
> 
> Can't really blame him. He's coming straight from war, jumping forward in time a hundred years, especially after he was sure he was going to die. I mean...can't blame a guy. 
> 
> We're going to have Diana in the next chapter, and she is everything lovely and wonderful.

Steve winced as the water hit his back.  

It was still too hot. No matter how he tried to move the faucet handle, he couldn’t get the water anywhere near a comfortable temperature. 

Not to mention he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d somehow...some way...ended up alive.  And in the future.  

Far in the future.  Almost a hundred years in the future. 

He couldn’t think about that.  So he concentrated on how to work the shower.  He’d be damned if he was going to call Alfred in here again to show him how it worked.  He prided himself on his ability to figure things out.  

He’d disarmed bombs before.  He could adjust the temperature of water.  

He jiggled the faucet handle, resulting in water that was a little cooler than he normally liked it, but it would have to do.  

His wrist was still throbbing, but not nearly as bad as before.  It had been dislocated by his fall.  Alfred had politely offered to pop it back in place for him.  And he had accepted.   

Steve wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when the gift horse was a dislocated wrist being his only injury after blowing up a plane full of poison gas. (And subsequently jettisoned one hundred years into the future).  

Alfred had mentioned something about a splint for him after he finished showering.  But he honestly didn’t think he’d need it.  All that sounded like was  _ more _ time he’d have to spend away from Diana.  

And he wanted to find Diana.  He’d been away from her for long enough.  

If what Alfred and Mr. Wayne said was true, then he’d been away from her for nearly a century.  To him, it only felt like a few hours had passed since he last saw her.  Since he had told her how he felt.  That he loved her.  

He couldn’t imagine how it was for her.  To see that plane go up in flames and to realize that he’d gone with it.  He didn’t know if she loved him back, but it had to be rough regardless.  

And even if she was through with him, which she likely was -- it  _ had _ been a hundred years, after all -- he still wanted to see her and let her know he was okay.  That he was going to adapt.  Just like he’d adapted to every situation British Intelligence had thrown his way.  

He’d adapt to this too.  He’d be able to adjust his water temperature.  And maneuver through a life that promised to be so much different than his own.  

All he wanted, was to know how the others turned out.  If they’d survived Germany.  He hoped they had.  Sameer and Chief.  And Charlie.  

Etta.  

His heart clenched at the thought of Etta.  How he’d never even gotten to say goodbye to her.  How she hadn’t been in Germany, but she was still very much a large part of his life that he’d disappeared from.  

They’d all be...surely...they were all  _ gone _ by now…

A lump rose in his throat and he swallowed it back down again.  He couldn’t think about any of that. Not now.  Not when he was so overwhelmed by everything else.  

Grief would still be there, waiting in the shadows for him when he was ready to deal with it.  

He reached for the soap and the cloth he’d brought in with him, lathering the soap into fragrant bubbles and going through the motions of cleaning himself.  

His mind was an echoing cavern of voices.  His.  Diana’s.  Etta’s.  Sameer.  Chief.  Charlie.  Ghosts.  

And the explosion.  

Diana running across No Man’s Land.  

Gunfire and yelling.  Screaming from the civilians.  

His knees hit the tiled floor and his breath came out in gasps as he pressed his forehead to the wet floor of the shower.  

He was vaguely aware of what was happening.  He’d seen shellshocked soldiers before.  

He’d heard the screams in the night.  The nightmares.  He’d felt sorry for them.  Wished them a speedy recovery.  Or just  _ a _ recovery. 

Steve had heard the stories of the ones who never recovered.  Who were never the same again.  Who sat muttering in corners of long-forgotten mental asylums.  All because the ghosts and the memories just wouldn’t stop...wouldn’t be quiet.  They were tainted.  Both scorned and pitied.  

Often guilted by their lack of physical scars, when anyone with a heart could see their scars were deeper.  

At least the ones with physical injuries were understood.  Given more leeway.  

And here he was...shaking on the floor of a hot shower, being taken apart by ghosts from so long ago, their grandchildren were probably older than he was.  

“Captain Trevor?”  Alfred’s voice was soft and calming.  Coming from a speaker in the ceiling.  One more thing to add to the stack.  “Are you alright, Sir?”  

He’d asked him that a dozen times at least since he’d shown up in the flower bed.   _ Are you alright, Sir?   _

“No,” he answered truthfully for the first time.  “No, I’m not.”  

There was a slight pause.  “Have you fallen?”  

He almost laughed.  Of course that would be the question he’d ask.  “No.  I’m...I’m just…” He had no idea how to tell him how fractured he felt even though he hadn’t fallen.    

“It’s a lot to handle at once, Captain.  Might I suggest, taking a few moments to let this all sink in?  The water heater is of record breaking size and expense.  There will be no shortage of hot water.”  

“Thank you,” he mumbled, not for the first time to Alfred or Mr. Wayne.  “Thank you.”  

“You’re welcome.  Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else.”  

* * *

 

It had a name now.  PTSD.  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  There was rehabilitation for it, even.  

People were able to live with it.  Through medication and therapeutic behavior exercises.  They didn’t get sent to asylums anymore.  At least, not like the ones Steve remembered.

Mr. Wayne -- or Bruce as he’d started insisting Steve call him -- was the one who explained it. 

But more importantly,  _ he _ was the one who knew Diana.  

“She’s working in Paris,”  Bruce explained.  “I recently sent her a photo I found of...well...you.  You and a few others.”  

Steve knew the photo.  He’d never seen it, but he definitely remembered posing for it.  A few days before in his mind. He fought back the umpteenth ‘hundred years’ reminder as it surfaced.   

“Where are we?” he asked instead, focusing on goal number one.  Finding Diana.  

“Just outside of Gotham,” was the response.  

Steve frowned.  “How can...what’s the quickest way to get to Paris?”  He hadn’t been expecting to be back in the States.  He’d really gone a fair distance away.  Actual physical distance.   

“A plane,” Bruce answered.  “But I’d rather if she came here.  There are a few...tests I’d like to run on you.  Something to explain the hole in time that brought you here.” 

The man sitting in front of him didn’t strike Steve as a scientist.  He struck him as a wealthy benefactor of one.  

“Who’s doing the testing?”  

“I’ll figure something out.”  

Cryptic.  His curiosity was whetted.  But he had his own demands he needed met before he submitted to anything. 

“So ask her to come here.  I’ll do whatever testing you want.  Once I see Diana.”  

He hadn’t really expected the foreboding man to adhere to his demands.  Not when Bruce literally held all the cards and Steve was stuck here with a deuce that may or may not be wild.  

“Well, I suppose I should drop her a line.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diana in the next chapter! Also more answers. I can't promise answers as to WHY Steve was jettisoned forward in time. Only that he was and how it happened. ;)


	3. Part 2:  To be Human is to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! I had a TERRIBLE weekend. :( And it effed with my muse something awful. 

The email came through early that morning. Around three a.m. Diana wouldn’t have even seen it if she hadn’t been up.  Awake.  Looking at the picture Mr. Wayne had sent her.  

Looking at  _ his _ face and thinking about how this was the last photo taken of Steve.  Of her Steve.  

She’d come to start thinking of him as hers throughout the years, even though she’d only known him for a pitifully short time.  He wasn’t just  _ her _ Steve.  

He was Charlie’s Steve.  Sameer’s.  Even Chief’s.  

And Etta’s.  

He was more Etta’s than he was hers, by all rights.  

It had been Etta who had held her hand whenever the tears wouldn’t stop.  Whenever the pain was too great.  It was always Etta.  She had passed away a decade before.  And Diana still found herself thinking of things to tell her.  Things she thought Etta would find interesting.  

Her passing had been as hard as Steve’s. In Etta she’d had and lost a true friend.  In Steve, she’d lost a kindred spirit.  A lover as well.  But first and foremost, Steve was a piece of her soul.

She’d had other lovers.  Men and women.  All of them special.  All of them loves she remembered fondly.  Warmly. 

But it was Steve she kept coming back to.  It was Steve in her dreams at night.  When she let her guard down enough to let the thoughts swirl into semi-tangible moments.  

Those were  _ Steve’s _ hands on her body.  His hips between her thighs.  His breath on her face.  His sighs piercing the silence. His eyes gazing reverently up into hers.  

It was Steve.  And he was hers.  In those moments, he was hers and hers alone.   

Her phone chimed on the desk beside her.  Her email.  She almost didn’t look.  It wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait until morning.  Not if it was coming to her email and not as a call.  Or as someone bursting through the door.    

But she looked anyway.  Out of habit.  

She’d once chuckled at all these people glued to their phones.  But now she was just as bad.  She couldn’t help it if the games were addicting.  Or the power she felt by the potential of limitless information.  

And it certainly helped her find out where she was needed faster than ever before. 

She recognized the email as Bruce Wayne’s.  The subject line was blank, as his emails often were.  

And the message was short.  Blunt.  To the point.  

“Someone here says they know you.”  

There was a file attachment.  A picture.  She opened it and nearly dropped her phone.  

_ Threw _ was more accurate.  She opened the attachment and nearly  _ threw _ her phone across the room.  

She blinked, rubbed her eyes.  It couldn’t be.  

It just  _ couldn’t  _ be…

But it was.  It  _ was _ .

“Steve…” she murmured, her thumb dragging over the picture.  

He was... _ alive _ .  Very much the way he looked the last time she saw him.  Except...different somehow.  Tired.  But hopeful.  And he was holding an issue of that day’s newspaper.  As if she wouldn’t believe Bruce Wayne if he sent her a picture of the presumably dead love of her life.  

She stood up, pocketing her phone and walking towards the door. She grabbed her keys as an afterthought, sliding the lock into place as she left. 

Diana was going to see her Steve again.  

And she wasn’t going to waste a second more.  

* * *

 

Steve tossed the newspaper onto the glass coffee table in front of him.  There was so much glass in this place.  Someone could throw a rock and cut everyone inside into ribbons.  He kept thinking about that old adage.  “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

But to his defense, Bruce Wayne didn’t seem the type that would throw a stone unprovoked.    

“How long will it take her to get here?”  Bruce asked him, tilting his head.  

“Not long,” Steve replied, pressing his fingers against his temples to ease the pounding in his skull.  

It was all so much.  Almost too much.  

He just wanted to  _ see _ her.  If he could just see her, then he could start sorting out the rest of everything that was buzzing around in his head.  His mind was so loud.  

There were so many complications.  

More complications than he’d ever encountered before.  And he was a spy for British Intelligence.  

Or was he?  

Frowning, he contemplated this.  If he was dead, he’d be discharged from service, right?  So he was basically unemployed. 

_ Unemployable _ , even.  Because he wasn’t trained for anything else.  And everything he’d ever done had definitely become obsolete by now.  

What was even left for a man like him?  

He pushed the thought out of his mind.  He somehow knew he needed to concentrate heavily on the present.  It felt better to concentrate on the here and now, rather than his uncertain future.  

His heart beat a little faster when he thought about seeing Diana again.  

_ Diana _ was his here and now.  And so he closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of the sofa.  

He relaxed and thought about Diana.  As he’d found himself doing many times in the past forty-eight hours of his life.  

* * *

 

She landed in Bruce Wayne’s yard.  The city of Gotham was a dark shadow behind her.  The sun was a thin glimmer of light on the horizon.  

And the lights were on in the Batman’s glass house. 

She ran for the door.  It was only a few yards away, but she couldn’t help it.  She had to get to him as fast as possible.  Every second was a second too long without him.  

Alfred answered the door.  Looking tired and more haggard than he usually looked.  

She gave him a warm smile, reaching out to gently squeeze his shoulder.  “It’s well past your bedtime, Alfred.”  

“Well past everyone’s, Ms. Diana…”  

“Is Steve -- Captain Trevor -- is he here?”  She flinched at her lack of propriety.  Of manners.  If anyone deserved propriety and manners, it was Alfred Pennyworth.    

He smiled warmly.  As if he understood.  And it was very likely that he did.  “That he is.  He’s had quite a journey, that man.”  

Diana could barely contain her excitement.  “Point me in the right direction.  And go get some sleep, Alfred.”  

“He’s in the sitting room with Master Bruce.”  

She was gone.  Walking quickly to the other end of the house, where both Bruce and Steve rose from the chairs they were sitting in as she entered.  

But formalities were forgotten the second she saw his face.  

“Diana!”  His smile was wide.  So wide.  And genuine.  He took a few steps toward her, and she closed the distance, wrapping her arms around him instantly.  His scent permeated the air around her.  Masked only a little by the high end soap he’d surely used in the shower, but he was still there.  Right beneath the surface.   

“Steve…” she murmured. “My Steve…”   


	4. Part III:  We Have it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, FINALLY here's the end for you guys! <3 Thanks for waiting so patiently! 
> 
> Like I said (I think I said this before, it might have been in a comment reply), there isn't ever really any explanation here for Steve's time travel. Bruce IS doing some research, however. And if I decide to continue writing in this slightly alternate universe, I will definitely be delving into what exactly happened there. 
> 
> But THIS story is a reunion story. And a love story. And I didn't want to bog it down with unnecessary plot devices. I just wanted to quench my feels-thirst and get these two back together where they belong. <3 
> 
> And Steve isn't fixed. Not even close. But he's on the road to figuring out what to do with himself. And that was my goal, honestly. Because sometimes...sometimes you don't get fixed. But you can figure out what to do about it. Being broken doesn't mean you're no good anymore. <3
> 
> I hope you liked this! I had so much fun writing it and Wondertrev is life, you guys. IT'S LIFE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine. <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Diana calling Steve 'My Steve' is my new reason to live.

Steve looked around her apartment as she led him inside.  It seemed like it had taken forever to get here.  In a way it had, he supposed. 

He wanted to memorize this place.  What her life looked like now.  But all he could focus on, was  _ her _ .   

Her hands reached for the buttons on the shirt.  A little too large, it was one he’d borrowed from Bruce.  His uniform, he’d left behind.  One of the requests that Steve had no problem agreeing to.  

Her fingers skimmed along his chest, her touch grounding him in the present.  Her presence not allowing him to flit back and forth between then and now.  It kept him firmly here.  Firmly in the now.  

Firmly here.  With her.  

“My Steve…” she whispered, not for the first time since they’d been reunited.  “I cannot believe it’s you.”  

“It’s me…” he assured her, a soft chuckle rising up from his chest.  

“I have missed you,” she said.  Her voice was so soft, he almost couldn’t hear it.  

“Me too…” he responded.  “It wasn’t...wasn’t as long for me…” His voice cracked at the end.  Hot tears threatened to spill and he coughed to force them back.  

It felt like he simply folded up into her body. Because one minute, they were standing in the middle of her sitting room.  And the next, they were on the sofa and he was curled against her.  His head pillowed by her belly as the tears that had been waiting to fall actually  _ fell _ with great velocity and vigor.  His hands clutched at her waist as he sobbed, the weight of what had happened finally, finally crushing him beneath its enormous size.  

* * *

 

Diana was at a loss.  

She held him close, his body shaking against hers.  No words she could understand came from his lips.  Only gasps and mumbled phrases.  Muffled by her body as he wept against her.  

She would lift any weight, run any distance.  Do anything to save Steve Trevor.  

But this?  This wasn’t something she could shoulder for him. 

All she could do was wait.  And exist.  And be here.  

She rubbed her palm up and down his back, making soft shushing sounds.  Nothing that she thought would actually shush him.  It was just a sound most humans seemed to find pleasing.  She’d often noticed Etta making it when her children cried.   _ And _ her grandchildren.  

And with her when the memories threatened to crush her alive.  Like they were doing to Steve right now.  

She couldn’t say the sound did anything for her.  But the thought behind it was appreciated.  

“Shhhh…” she murmured.  “It is alright, Steve.  I am here.”  

The words sounded strange as she said them, no matter how true it was.  She  _ was _ here.  And it  _ was _ alright. 

Or it  _ would _ be.

* * *

 

He awoke the next morning to find himself still wrapped around Diana.  They weren’t on the sofa in her sitting room any longer, though.  

From the looks of it, they were in her bedroom.  

His head hurt and the sun was blinding.  He sat up and looked down at her.  

The light hit her face, making her hair shine.  Her face glowed.  She was the most gorgeous, most precious, most powerful being he’d ever encountered. 

“I love you…” he breathed.    

Slipping out of bed, he walked over towards the only closed door in the room, or where he assumed the bathroom was.  

He still wasn’t used to twenty-first century plumbing.  The toilets at Mr. Wayne’s house had been  _ automated _ .  It honestly made him want to go outside and water the garden, rather than try to figure out how to take a piss.  How they could have made something so simple become so complicated was beyond his understanding.  

The commode in Diana’s bathroom wasn’t nearly so complicated, he was happy to note.  

His reflection in the mirror, however…

He splashed cool water on his face, using one of the hand towels to dry off.  His eyes weren’t nearly as swollen or puffy looking as they had been the night before, but he was still a sight for sore eyes.  

A gentle knock at the door got his attention and he leaned over to open it.   

Diana was radiant first thing in the morning.  He remembered from the last few times they’d woken up together.  

“You found the bathroom,” she stated, a small smile gracing her lips.  

“Looks that way,” he said with a nervous laugh, the memory of their conversations the night before came rushing back.  Mostly with the mental image of him crying himself to sleep in her lap.  “I’m...about last night...I’m--”  

Diana kissed his lips.  “Steve.  Don’t you dare.”  

“Don’t I dare what?”  

“Apologize.”  

“It’s not how I wanted to spend our first night back together…” 

“Well, now we have all the nights,” she reminded him.  “To do whatever we wish. And we have the mornings too.  And the afternoons.  We have it all.”   

“We do, don’t we?”  

He’d told her once that he wished they had more time.  Now they had it.  And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the most of every second.  

“Yes,” she chuckled, wrapping her arms around his waist.  “So what do you want to do first?”  

He looked into her eyes, full of warmth and promise.  Big deep pools he wanted to dive into.  “I was hoping you could show me how to work the shower?”  

She looked almost disappointed before she turned towards the frosted glass stall in the corner.  “Of course…”   

Steve kept hold of her hand, pulling her gently back towards him.  “I’m pretty bad at these things, Diana...I might need you to stay in with me…”  

A playful smile appeared on her face.  “I wouldn’t want you to fall…”  

He shook his head, dipping down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “No...I wouldn’t want to fall.”  

“Not without me to catch you…” she continued.  

“My hero…” he whispered, so close to her that his lips brushed against hers.  

_ “My Steve…”  _

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr, if that's a thing you do. <3 
> 
> Also, comments feed my muse! *hint hint* ;)


End file.
